


Busted

by Shaddyr



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Humor, M/M, McShep Match Challenge 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaddyr/pseuds/Shaddyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So. Fucking. Busted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busted

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://outsideth3box.livejournal.com/profile)[**outsideth3box**](http://outsideth3box.livejournal.com/) for the beta, as per usual. Errors that remain are my own.

The sun was blindingly bright on PX2-587. The building they were in was still relatively cool, but outside the afternoon heat was stifling. John could feel the sweat beading at his hairline even as he approached the half open door. He was careful not to jar it – it had made the most god awful screeching noise earlier when they had been escorted inside, and that would just attract all sorts of unwanted attention.

He cautiously peeked around the corner. Several women sat in a large courtyard chatting and doing some kind of hand crafts - weaving? Knitting? There were children running about and playing in the yard around them, and he heard the occasional sharp reprimand as one child or another did something wrong. He saw one little boy get a scolding from the village matriarch for trying to scale a gnarled trees in the yard. A moment later, three older children earned a stern talking to for teasing one of the little ones.

John kept half an eye on the women as he scanned the area for cover, but there was nothing. It had to be at least 20 meters between him and the next building over. He was psyching himself up to try to make a run for it when, quite unexpectedly, the matriarch’s head snapped around, her dark eyes pinning John with a stare.

He gulped audibly and jerked back from the door. Unfortunately, his heel caught on the single step behind him, and he went down hard on his ass.

"Ow! fuck!"

He could hear feminine giggles drifting across the yard through the door. He was so busted.

“Jesus, Sheppard! What the hell are you doing now?" Rodney demanded, looking up from the Ancient console he had half disassembled before him. "I am trying to concentrate here, Colonel ADD, and your constant pacing and prowling around is SO NOT HELPING!”

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered as he clambered up from the floor and turned away to scan the perimeter of the room once more. Maybe he could crawl out the far window before-

The door screeched open and he gritted his teeth at the sound. It was about 10 times worse than fingernails on a chalkboard and he found himself wondering if Rodney had any WD40 stashed in his toolkit because that noise was going to make him puncture his own eardrums just so he didn’t have to hear it again.

“Joohn Sheepaard,” a steely voice called from behind him and he heard something suspiciously like a snicker come from Rodney. He shot him a dirty look before pasting on his best 'I'm so innocent' smile and turning to face the music.

“Ma’am?” he asked politely, schooling his expression into the one he’d used as a little boy when trying to get extra cookies from his grandmother.

The she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and an expression that looked as though she’d bitten into something very sour. She cocked an eyebrow at him. Yeah, that expression had never really worked all that well on his grandmother, either.

“If ye want ta see what me granddaughters be makin’, then ye need ta come o’er and ha’ yerself a look,” she said.

“Oh, I didn’t want to intrude-“

“Ye WILL come o’er an’ see, and ye’ll duit now, Joohn Sheepaard,” she insisted in a tone that brooked absolutely no argument. “An’ mayhaps ye could amuse th’ wee ones for a spell since you don’t seem ta have nuthin’ better ta do,”

So. Fucking. Busted.

*****

It had been fun for the first hour or so. It was always fun trying to figure out what some Ancient gizmo had been for, provided it wasn’t trying to Ascend anyone or booby trapped in some way or inside an unstable, underground lab that was just waiting to collapse on their heads. Then there was his personal ritual of winding Rodney up by making increasingly more bizarre guesses as to the actual nature of the device -

“It’s an Ancient News desk!”

“What?” Rodney studied the console intently for a moment, and John couldn’t hide his smirk. It was *all* in the tone of voice. It only took a second for Rodney’s brain to catch up and he glared over at John. “It’s *nothing* like a news desk! I don’t even know where you come up with this crap.”

“You’re right,” John agreed, nodding sagely. “It's gotta be the sports desk – it's way too cool for a news anchor.”

“You’re such an infant!”

\- which just added to the overall enjoyment. Still, after the initial entertainment of making sure the console wasn’t deadly, establishing that it was still, in fact, drawing power from somewhere, and putting in some light switch duty -

“Yes, like that. No, no! Keep that up, just - look, can you just please try to concentrate, just for a moment - no, no, a little lighter, just ease it into - WAIT! Dammit!”

The slightly acrid smell of a fried power crystal wafted across the room, and John rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“For heaven’s sake, Colonel!” Rodney bitched as he yanked out the useless crystal rummaged through his kit for a replacement. “I swear, sometimes you have the attention span of a gnat! How it is that we haven’t ended up dead when you can’t focus on a simple task for more than 10 seconds, I’ll never know!”

John absolutely did not pout as Rodney crawled under the console to replace the crystal. It was hot out and the natives were friendly - a little too friendly, actually, which was why he’d rather play light switch for Rodney, as boring as that was when it was just, "On. Now, off. Now just hold that...." than wander around the village. The 'lovely young girls of marriageable age' that the village elders had boasted of all gave him doe eyes and tittered behind their hands whenever he walked by. And the matriarch! She kept staring at him with her piercing green eyes, making him feel awkward and twitchy and he half expected to catch fire from the intensity of her stare the next time she caught him in her gaze.

Rodney looked up at him, his mouth set in a frown. “Look. I have work to do, and you’re really not helping. It might take me a little longer to finesse the console since I wasn’t born with your freakish natural ATA gene, but I can do it, and without burning through any more crystals. Which are, as mentioned previously, fragile and finite in number, and therefore require a gentle and delicate touch by someone who has the ability to stay focused a little longer than the average four year old.”

“Rodneeey-”

“Go away, Colonel. Patrol the perimeter, or check on Teyla. Something. Just get out of my hair.”

John let out a breath which he patently refused to identify as a huffy sigh before turning away to head for the door.

“And don’t push the-

*SCHREEEECH*

He winced at the racket and ignored Rodney as he ranted at him for shattering his eardrums."Damn, that’s loud!” he muttered as he slipped around the door, leaving it half open.

****

He walked the perimeter of the village, automatically conducting a threat assessment as he scanned the outlying buildings and the tree line several hundred meters away. It was as calm and peaceful as it had been the last time they were here; Laenzi was one of a handful of planets where they had found people who were genuinely friendly, with no ulterior motives or nefarious schemes.

They also had some ancient tech that still worked to some degree. They didn’t understand it, but they were willing to share it. Even better, they didn’t worship or revere it in any way, which automatically raised their estimation in Rodney’s eyes. As per usual, he’d been pretty vocal about his opinions, but in this case, it had actually worked for them since he’d basically proclaimed the villagers were smarter than a good chunk of the rest of the galaxy. This made Rodney pretty popular with the elders, and guaranteed him uninterrupted access to the ancient tech for as long as he wanted it.

It was about time the odds played out so that Rodney’s big mouth scored for them for once.

The only downside was that while Rodney was having the time of his life, and Teyla was quite content haggling out a trade agreement, John had nothing to do. He was bored, bored, oh so very bored. Rodney would likely strangle him if he showed up again before at least an hour had gone by, and Teyla had conveyed quite clearly that his presence at the negotiations was neither requested nor required.

The Laenzians had been nothing but scrupulously honest so far, so lurking around while Teyla was negotiating was really unnecessary. Besides, John didn’t want to be a dick if he didn’t need to be, even though it was fun to play the enforcer when it was required. It seemed to work even better when he did it with Ronon though, because they could get a bit of good cop/bad cop vibe going without saying a word. Teyla always rolled her eyes at them when they did it, but he was firmly convinced that more than a few negotiations had worked out a little better than they might have otherwise because of their shtick.

Plus the fact that Teyla never actually told them to stop doing it added a little more weight to his theory.

Still – he was a little bit curious about how things were going, so maybe he'd go have a look to see what he could see. At least it was something to do.

****

John stood at the back of the village hall where the negotiations were taking place, attempting to check up on the proceedings as unobtrusively as possible. These people were nice and had good food. He was pretty serious about not doing anything that would make him come across as a dick.

He could see Teyla sitting regally as she sipped her cup of tea across the table from the two elders representing the village counsel. He heard them talking but couldn’t make out any words. He didn’t really want to go in as he was afraid it might disrupt the negotiations, but he was kind of curious about how things were going. He just loitered there for a while, hoping he might pick up a bit of the conversation.

A few minutes later, he saw a young scribe slip over to whisper in one of the elder’s ears. The old man gave a sharp nod then looked up at him. “Colonel JoohnSheeppard,” he intoned. “Is all not well?”

Well, damn.

Teyla turned around to see him, an expression of surprise and concern on her features. She knew if it was an emergency he would have called on the radio. It took about 3 seconds for her expression to morph from uncertainty to amused annoyance. It was the same look his mom gave him at boring family gatherings he'd suffered through when all he'd wanted was to get away and go riding –

Yeah. She saw right through him. Busted.

He put on his ‘aww shucks’ face.” “No, Elder Grathen, no problem at all,” he assured the man. “I was just-” bored to tears “-hoping negotiations were going well and my curiosity got the better of me. I apologize for interrupting.”

Nice save, he though.

“Ah, well if ye be interested in the negotiation, please feel free ta join us,” Grathen invited, his wizened face widening into a knowing smile. “We were just discussin' th' number o' hours it takes ta harvest tormack and what a fair trade would be in hours and medicines for th' amount o' crop yer people have requested."

John would rather stab himself in the eye than try to haggle out how many man hours of work would be a fair trade for 500 lbs of tormack, and he had a feeling that Grathen knew it and was yanking his chain for a reaction.

Busted again.

"Thanks, Elder Grathen, but I really must get back to help Dr. McKay," he explained hastily.

The elder gave him a toothy smile. "I'm sure that ye must," he agreed. "Off with ye, then."

****

John did another slow sweep of the village out of sheer boredom. He really was headed back to help Rodney. When he was sure Rodney wouldn't bite his head off as soon as he walked in the door.

He needed to find Ronon. He looked around and frowned. What the heck was the big guy up to, anyway? John hadn't seen him since he'd gone to play some kind of knife throwing game with a counsel guardsman he'd struck up a friendship with last time they'd been here. Well, whatever Ronon was up to had to be more fun that sitting around watching Teyla try to work out concessions on tormack.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he set off to investigate.

***

John walked around the corner and found Ronon sitting at a communal table beside the village common building. He’d followed the smell of tormack, roasting meat and feyiiberry pie, figuring he was likely to find Ronon where the food was, and he’d been right in that - his teammate had a plate piled up with food and was eating with gusto. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the unwed ladies brigade that surrounded Ronon, peppering him with questions and fawning over his every need.

John skidded to a halt and tried to backpedal, but he wasn’t quite fast enough.

“Oh! Hello, Colonel JohnSheppaard!” called the pretty blond with the big brown eyes and the hopeful smile. “Won’t ya please join us for lunch?”

Busted.

“Ah, Deena, right?” he asked hesitantly. The matriarch had introduced them to all the young, eligible girls in the village. Every. Last. One of them. It had been pretty clear at the time that forgetting any of their names would not bode well. He was half convinced she might just spring a pop quiz before they left.

“Yes, Colonel JohnSheeppard!” she dropped her eys, smiling bashfully, looking pleased and oh, so very young, and he felt a little lecherous to even be looking at her. “RononDex has been telling us of yer wondrous exploits,” she continued, daring to glance back up at him, “and we’d so love ta hear more.”

He smiled weakly and looked over to find Ronon laughing at him around a mouthful of wiela beast. Ronon was soaking up the attention and thoroughly enjoying John’s discomfiture. Bastard. But - lunch! Rodney was probably hungry! It was his duty to make sure that his friend and teammate did not fall victim to hypoglycaemia. That totally did not mean he was running away, no matter what Ronon’s smirk said.

“Ahh, that sounds great Deena, but I think Dr. McKay might be hungry as well. I’m just going to go and check on him,” he said as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the way he’d come from.

He noticed a couple of the girls giggle excitedly at that. Rodney was certainly popular with the young ladies; John had heard a few of them comment in hushed tones about Rodney’s amazing blue eyes and how his children would be both beautiful and smart.

It left a guy feeling a little concerned about exactly what the women thought was on the menu.

“Please hurry back,” Deena replied and he nodded quickly before beating a strategic retreat.

****

He slipped in quietly, hopping up the single step and sauntering over to where Rodney was working. Panels were strewn around on the floor with assorted crystals lined up in a particular pattern on one of them. Rodney had his laptop wired in and was muttering to himself as he made adjustments, typed a little, studied the results and then did it all again. He was making the happy little humming sounds that John associated with Rodney thoroughly enjoying whatever he was currently tinkering with.

There was a high backed chair nearby, He grabbed it and carried it over toward the console then turned it around to straddle it backwards, folding his arms across the top and hooking his chin over his wrist.

“How’s it going?”

Rodney’s head snapped up and he looked rather discombobulated. “Uhm. It’s. Going.” He glanced at the organized chaos surrounding him with a bemused expression, as if the mess had snuck up and caught him unawares. He snorted softly then looked back at John. “This was clearly the control console for an energy management hub at one time, quite likely supplying cities for hundreds of miles around. When there used to be cities here, anyway. The distribution grid is still in place, and in amazingly good condition for something that hasn’t been maintained for several thousand years.”

Rodney continued on and John let the words flow over him, nodding now and then as Rodney pointed at the console, or emphatically illustrated a particular point with a wave or gesture. After a few minutes, he interrupted.

“So. Lunch?”

Rodney blinked. “Already had it.” He pointed at the brown MRE wrapper on the floor near the console.

“Rodney. They have real food here!” He leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “They made roast weila beast and tormack!”

“Tormack?” Rodney’s eyes took on an avaricious gleam for a moment, but then he sighed. “Maybe they’ll have more at dinner,” he said dismissively as he turned back to peer at the console. “I need to get these diagnostics finished. I want to put this back together before nightfall, or we’re going to have to come back tomorrow.”

“Aw, c’mon, it’s not like you to turn down tormack, Rodney,” John wheedled. “And there’s a whole gaggle of pretty girls who are just waiting to fawn over your every word.”

And hopefully, between Ronon and Rodney, said girls would be distracted and entertained long enough for him to have a bite to eat and then escape before one cornered him and started quizzing him on what he thought were the best qualities in a wife.

“I don’t think a single one of those girls is a day past 16, Colonel,” Rodney commented dryly, and John could almost hear Rodney roll his eyes. “As hard is it may be for you to believe, I am not, in fact, ruled by my stomach. And since you are once again, a) not helping and, b) actually distracting me from my work, you could make yourself useful by seeing if you can sweet talk one of them into giving you a nice plate of tormack and roast for me. That should keep you entertained for a little while at least.”

Having just escaped, that was the last thing John wanted to do. “But, Rodneeey-”

“Oh my god, are you deficient? I don’t have time to entertain you! Come back in a few hours, hopefully I’ll be done by then. Just get out!”

****

  
Kids were fun. They were easy - all you had to do to make them happy was toss them up in the air a few times, make some funny faces, and pretend you were going to catch them as they squealed and ran away.

As much as he enjoyed it, it was too damn hot to be doing anything, much less chasing a bunch of kids around the yard.

“It is very hot, Joohn Sheepard.” The matriarch’s voice carried across the yard to where John currently laid pinned to the ground by five laughing children between the ages of 2 and 7. “Mayhaps ye should come inta th’ shade and let me Deena fetch ye a tall glass of feyiiberry juice?”

John considered the offer - did a quick risk/benefit analysis and decided that heat stroke was imminent and He wiggled out from under the puppy pile, eliciting shrieks of laughter from the kids as they struggled to hold on to him. A few well placed tickles sent most of them running away giggling but he had one little boy who was about three years old securely clamped around his right leg and a little girl with her arms wrapped around his neck who refused to budge as he made his way over where the ladies were sitting in the shade of a large overhang.

“Needa! Silan! Let go,” Deena admonished as she brought him a frosty glass full of the sweet-tart juice. It went down easy, soothing his parched throat, and he thought it tasted a little like cranberry and raspberry with some indefinable bottom note that made it uniquely Pegasus.

“Thank you, Deena,” he said politely before asking, “Hey, could I get a glass of this to take back for Rodney?”

The kids, who had been ignoring Deena’s efforts to remove them up until that point suddenly released him and scampered away. John smirked. Looked like Rodney wasn’t a hit with *everyone* in the village after all.

“Methinks that Doctor Rodney should be gettin' his own," Deena said, a little archly, and John found himself a little surprised. And spurred to defend Rodney as well.

"Well, he is very busy," he found himself explaining. "And I don't mind taking it to him."

She pouted at that then turned away to pour another glass of juice, then thrust it at him.

"There then," she said, and John raised an eyebrow at the ire in her tone as she handed him the glass. "I hope that ya reap a fine an' icy harvest," she spit at him before stalking away. He heard the shocked intake of breath from the other women sitting there and looked around in confusion.

"Deena!" the matriarch scolded, but she'd already gone into another building. The old woman sight and turned to him, shaking her head. “Oi, Joohn Sheepaard,” she said as she speared him with that gaze of hers, leaving him feeling like a bug on a pin, stuck and exposed. "I wasnae certain, but it does seem that ye have an affinity for farmin' ice after all."

"I... have no idea what you're talking about," he said, desperately wanting to get away from these crazy women and back to Rodney.

She chuckled, and it was clear to him that she was fully aware of how terribly uncomfortable he was. "Aye, that's verra clear ta me," she said with a grin. "Well then, off wit’ ye to take your Doctor Rodney his juice.”

***

He slipped into the cool room and decided that no matter how boring it might be, he wasn’t leaving the room until Rodney was done.

“Oh, good timing, Colonel,” Rodney crowed as he walked up with the glass. “Is that feyiiberry juice?” Rodney asked, grabbing it away from him and taking a deep drinking.

“That could have been mine, you know,” John protested out of habit.

Rodney scoffed. “You always bring me coffee in the lab, and since the Laenzi don’t have coffee, this is clearly the next best offering,” he said dismissively, as if this was The Way Of Things and could never be altered. He gulped it back, finishing off the glass in a few seconds.

“Man, it’s getting hot in here,” Rodney complained as he handed the glass back to John. “I figured out what was wrong,” he said as he started gathering up his equipment. “There was a blockage in the primary relay, but it was fixable, and if the Laenzi are willing to spend time learning how to operate this system again -” he stopped what he was doing to turn and smile at John, waving his hands around to encompass the room. “They could have cheap, clean power, more than they’ll ever need at their present level of development, but the improvements it would make to their lives will be phenomenal!”

John smiled as Rodney went on about his discoveries and what they would mean for the Laenzi. Sometimes when he got passionate about things, all wrapped up and involved and intense like he was right now, it was all John could do to stay professional because what he really wanted was to grab Rodney and shove him up against the nearest wall and kiss him senseless. He shook his head to break the spell before he did something foolish.

Once Rodney had everything packed up, he took a cursory look around to make sure he hadn’t missed anything then nodded to John that he was ready to go.

John tapped his radio. "Hey, Ronon, we're heading out shortly. Meet us in the courtyard in five.”

He got a grunt of acknowledgement. Maybe one day he'd actually get Ronon to say, "Copy," but he wasn't holding his breath.

He tapped it again. "Teyla, we're ready to head out. What's your situation?"

“Our negotiations are happily concluded. I have an agreement that is acceptable to the Laenzi and needs only to be endorsed by Mr. Woolsey.”

“Great. Courtyard in five work for you?”

“I will join you shortly.”

"So," Rodney asked, speculatively. “What did you get up to today?”

John shrugged. “Nothing, really. I was just killing time.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- The concept of Ice farming came from [](http://toft-froggy.livejournal.com/profile)[**toft_froggy**](http://toft-froggy.livejournal.com/) in her brilliant story, [Healing Station Argh](http://toft-froggy.livejournal.com/376385.html)  
>  \- Tormack was invented by [](http://the-cephalopod.livejournal.com/profile)[**the_cephalopod**](http://the-cephalopod.livejournal.com/)


End file.
